


sweeter than heaven, and hotter than hell.

by leedsbracelet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Like, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, but anyways, chop suey and more, how do i even tag this fic its a mess, real life references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedsbracelet/pseuds/leedsbracelet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's moans echo through Louis’ living room, Louis’ thrusts becoming relentlessly hard, and fast, and soon enough Harry’s soft moans turn into deep grunts and they’re both coming.</p><p>Harry struggles to catch his breath before saying something Louis never wants to hear after he's just had an orgasm,</p><p> "I think your noodles are getting cold."</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweeter than heaven, and hotter than hell.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii! so there's probably an abundance of spelling errors in here and some spacing errors because im very slopping and get impatient when im spacing out the paragraphs on the ao3 editor thing so im sorry for any of that :) i started writing this fic when i first got my computer which was two years ago and i somehow randomly finished it today so i was kind of in a hurry to get it over with and post it!  
> hope you like the read :)

Louis decides to start the new school year off by walking through the doors of his dimly lit college with monochromatic walls, and a distasteful amount of students littering the halls. The hallways reek of Monday morning hangovers and depression, and Louis thinks there is not a better time to be alive.

  
He’s overcome with acute of nostalgia of his days in his earlier years in college because he definitely misses the loud, annoying, prepubescent teenagers lurking through the halls and stopping in the middle of the hallway just to suck face with another prepubescent teenager. Louis walks towards the only person who he potentially likes at his college, the only person he doesn’t think about slowly murdering in his mind.

  
(he’s planned almost everyone’s murder, actually)

  
(even the teachers)

  
(and the janitor)

  
(Louis doesn't have a problem)

  
Zayn tackles Louis to the ground when he’s nearly two feet away from him, “Give me a quick blowie will you, Louis?” Zayn whispers into Louis’ ear.

  
Louis is not like Zayn, who can be as chirpy as a fucking bird at such an horrid time in the morning. Louis at least has to go through two cups of coffee and a pain killer before he’s remotely in a good mood to deal with everyone’s shit, especially Zayn’s.

  
Louis doesn’t answer Zayn because his insides are axiomatically being crushed by a man who his twice his size. Louis groans in pain as he kicks his feet around, attempting to get Zayn’s body off his own. Zayn, though, eventually does get off Louis, and Louis feels someone trip over his foot.

  
Louis looks up to see a larger boy scowl down at him, and Louis smiles because he at least found someone who hates mornings as much as he does. Maybe even more than he does, which Louis finds, is coruscating.

  
Louis stands, pulling Zayn into a headlock, “Zayn, what makes you think tackling me to the ground is the key to getting me on my knees for you?” Louis asks, scuffing Zayn’s hair. And he knows he’s basically signing his own death certificate by doing so. Zayn's hair is basically his life, and by even laying on finger on it, Zayn will genuinely, and precisely plan out your death.

  
Zayn elbows Louis in the stomach, freeing himself from Louis’ hair ruining lock, “Go fuck yourself,” Zayn mumbles, running his fingers through his barely messed up quiff. Even with Louis’ rough head noogies, Zayn’s hair still looks perfect. And Louis mentally curses him out in his head for being so immensely perfect without even trying.

  
“Now, now, Zayn. Mind your language.” Louis teases. “And about the blowjob? Notta chance, love,”

 

“Oh, c’mon, Lou. Don’t deny me,” Zayn winks, grinding himself into Louis’ hip.

  
Louis rolls his eyes, “You know, you’re the only- no you were the only person in this college whose murder I haven’t planned out,”

Zayn gasps and places his hand over his heart in mock flattery, “Babe, I’m flattered. So, how will I go? Will you skin me alive, or will I die peacefully by choking on a thick cock?”

Louis sometimes wonders how he tends to maintain a tediously normal life but somehow manages to befriend such idiotic, and unruly people. Like Zayn, for example. Even though Louis is a pompous ass who pretends (but makes it seem realistically true) to know everything, he still thinks he deserves the luxury of having decent friends who don't ask if they're going to die by choking on a thick cock.

“I’ll skin you alive, you’re not allowed to enjoy your death,” Louis states, while he tries (but fails) to people watch the hallway. Even though the new term hasn't brought in any fit blokes, he still asks Zayn who they're next victim will be, “So, who will it be today, then?”

Zayn leans against the lockers in an ‘I’m intimidating as fuck, don’t fuck with me’ position, taking out two cigarettes from his pocket, placing one in his mouth and the other behind his ear. Zayn claims he doesnt have a smoking problem, yet smokes a full pack in a day. But again, as Zayn says, he doesn't have a smoking problem.

“Um, you can take this one today, Lou, but um, freshman. Go with a freshman.” Zayn mutters, his unlit cigarette bouncing against his lips.

This started last year; they’d walk into college, and scan the hallways for easy targets who would drop to their knees the second Louis or Zayn say hi to them. Zayn enjoys the freshmen, while Louis on the other hand likes a bit of a challenge, he likes the adrenaline rush, he likes the potential denial from the other (not that he gets denied a lot, anyway).

Though, Louis scrunches his nose up because Zayn is always the one to take the first victim. But now, Zayn is giving him to Louis.

“You alright there, love? You always take the first one?” Louis questions Zayn ripping away the cigarette from his lips and throwing it in the bin near him, "and you said you'd quit."

Zayn looks takes a deep breath of the man-made, possibly infested with black mold air of their distasteful college, looking down at the floor; a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. He thinks Louis doesn’t notice, but oh, Louis notices everything.

Then, as if almost instantaneously, Louis gasps now coming to an epiphany, “Zayn! Holy fucking shit,”

Zayn’s eyes widen, shaking his head thinking there’s no fucking way Louis-

“You have a fucking crush!” Louis blurts out, and Zayn wants to kick him in the face just to smear off that smug smirk on Louis’ face.

“Who is it? Huh? Do I know him? Of course I know him, I know everyone,” Louis does know everyone. He and Zayn are known as the “cool” kids at their college even though Louis doesn’t like to accept it. But Zayn, on the contrary, loves the popularity. Everyone just seems to know them even though they don’t necessarily know them.

Zayn doesn’t try to keep his crush from Louis because even if he doesn’t tell him, Louis will eventually figure out who it is. So, Zayn drags his face down with his hand, dramatically sighing, then gesturing his head towards two boys across the hallway.

So, Louis looks across the hall, and he sees him. Well, he doesn’t see him, but he sees the curly-haired mess whose laugh can be heard from a mile away. He’s bent over, his hands resting on his knees and it seems like he’s trying to catch his breath from what the slightly shorter, light brown-haired lad in plaid said.

He doesn't want to judge the two lads, but he does anyway.

The curly-haired one is cute, but is in desperate need of a haircut. And should probably be drowned in shampoo, and- what the fuck is that wrapped around his head?

The one in the plaid is cute, but not as cute as the Curly one. The buzzcut makes him look like he has Downs Syndrome, but that's not his fault. And if his buzzcut is not one of those barber-fucked-up-my-hairstyle-so-I-just-shaved-It-all-off situations, then he should just say it is because, well.

Louis smirks inwardly.

“The curly lad, or the puppy face lad,” Louis questions, his eyebrow propping up at Zayn.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “The puppy,” he states.

"He looks like he has Down's Syndrome," Louis states.

"LOUIS!" Zayn practically exclaims, "You have no fucking filter, you cum filled twat," Zayn rolls his eyes yet again, and Louis thinks Zayn’s eyes are eventually going to roll into the back of his head. But Louis says no more.

The day goes by in the same vein, and then came lunchtime.

Louis walks into the cafeteria, the smell of over processed meat and freezer burned vegetables hit him like a train. He walks past the table of girls with unbelievably high-pitched voices, the table of jocks who always smell like a moldy locker room, and of course like every other typical college, the table of little nerdlings who linger in a group around the table talking about Pokemon.

When Louis finally reaches his table (which he and Zayn officially made theirs, and no one else dared to sit there because, well, it’s Louis and Zayn.) he plops himself down, slamming his head on the table like an over dramatic, teenaged girl.

“Well, someone’s having a good day,” Niall perks up with a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

Louis and Zayn met Niall last year when Zayn begged Louis to try out for the footie team, and they ended up making the team. And there, they met Niall; a hyper-active, loud child who needs to take his Ritalin and take a decent, two (maybe three) hour nap.

“Tell me, who in the right fuck assigns an English project on the first day of term?” Louis groans, “Anyone care to help me out with it?” Louis asks, lifting up a book in his hands,

" _Anyone_?"

Niall shakes his head, “Nah man, I’ve got footie try-“

“There’s a good man,” Louis says, sitting up and patting Niall on the back, “Thank you for volunteering.”

Louis takes out a ham sandwich from his bag, thinking it might be spoiled. Or maybe the overly processed ham meat just reeks of factory and chemicals.

Zayn scoffs, “You ask the gym bag smelling goon to help you with an English project, when you practically have an English prodigy right in front of your face?!”

Niall snorts, taking a sip from his Diet Coke, “First of all, there’s no such thing as an English Prodigy, and even if there was, it wouldn't be you, love. Believe it or not, but, you're not some gifted genius. And also, I know a thing or two about literature,” Niall says, “Just because I don’t spend my life analyzing sonnets doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

Zayn laughs, elbowing Niall in the side, “You might just be an idiot, Niall. Don’t get it twisted."

Louis and Niall simultaneously drop their sandwiches onto their trays.

“You-you have the audacity to call Niall an idiot when you just said ‘Don’t get it twisted’?” Louis laughs, “We should shun you from the lunch table.”

Louis takes a bit from his ham sandwich, confirming that the ham is indeed spoiled, “And also, for saying that, Zayn has a little wittle crush!” Louis blurts to Niall.

Niall nearly chokes, “I thought you thots don't do boyfriends?”

Louis gasps in mock offense, “Thot is an ugly word, if you're going to use a word to describe Zayn and I's promiscuous behavior at least have the decency to use the term 'whore'."

The rest of the week rolls by smoothly, that is, until he sees him again. He sees the rather interesting boy who was standing next to Zayn’s man candy on the first day of school. The boy with a head full of ridiculous curls, and the laugh that can be heard from miles but rings through your ears like a melody from an underground, Indie rock band who, sadly, barely sell out any shows.

Louis isn’t sure why, in a college with over 1,000 students he still somehow bumps into (not really bumps into, more like he purposely runs himself into) this boy.

(Which isn't the smartest, nor the most desirable way to meet someone.)

(Well, in shitty fanfiction the protagonist always meets the love of their life by bumping into them in a coffee shop, so Louis figures why not.)

(He's a fucking idiot.)

 

“You alright there?” an abruptly deep voice says, obviously trying to hold back laughter. Probably because he noticed that Louis purposely bumped into him.

“Yeah, perfectly all right!” Louis says cheerfully, “That was completely on accident, by the way. We're not in a shitty, heterosexual fanfiction,"

Amazing.

The boy looks down at Louis, his eyes eyebrows scrunching up in pure and utter confusion.

Louis’ eyebrows raise up, realizing that he probably (definitely) shouldn't have said that, “Um, I’m Louis, by the way.” Louis says. And Louis is struck with the sudden urge to jump into a pool of gasoline and light himself on fire because the boy literally takes minutes to answer him.

“Yeah, I know,” the boy finally says, laughing softly. But Louis notices how the boy mumbles to himself saying ‘fuck’ as if mentally slapping himself in the face for knowing Louis’ name.

“I mean, um, I know you because of my big sister, um Gemma?” the boy tries to save himself from further humiliation, but Louis knows who his sister is. He and Gemma took drama in his first year of College. He's been over to her house before, but never seen the too-tall bloke, with lanky arms and legs before.

“Don’t think I’m creepy because I know your name, I promise I’m not creepy,” he stutters.

Louis laughs, “I don’t think you’re creepy, even though I should just because you said I shouldn’t.”

The lad tilts his head in confusion, then making an ‘o’ shape with his mouth when he finally understands what Louis just said.

Louis pulls up one of his braces which fell off his shoulder during the “accidental” predicament, and fumbles for words in his mind that won’t make him sound like an idiot, or an asshole.

Or both.

What comes out though is, “And who the fuck are you?”

That takes the boy by surprise, and Louis is just about to text Zayn to buy a kiddy pool, some gallons of gasoline, and matches because, he is just about done with his life. He is done and now he's going to burn himself alive while /Burn Baby Burn/ plays softly in the background.

The fairly familiar sound of the boys’ laugh rings through Louis’ ear –for fucks sake he’s got dimples- , as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Um, I’m Harry.”

Oh, like Harry Potter. Louis tries to refrain from saying that, but being the twat that he is, Louis says it.

Harry outright fucking giggles and Louis already hates him, because one: he just wants to fuck him and two: he’s making Louis feel a tingling feeling in his stomach, and it’s not from arousal.

“Yeah, like Harry Potter,” Harry pauses for a moment, shifting his weight to his other foot. Harry's wearing these light brown, faux leather boots with an incredibly high heel for a boot made for men, but Louis doesn't comment on them.

“You’re clearly a man of taste,” Harry says, looking down at Louis’ hand that was holding a copy of The Fault in Our Stars.

Louis looks down at the book, debating whether he should lie and say “Why of course, I love reading books! Especially by Bill Green!” or if he should just flat out say he hates reading, hates John Green for his immensely boring writing and unoriginal plots, and say it's for a project.

He goes with the former, “Yeah, I love books.” Louis smiles, his lie bull shitting through his teeth.

Harry’s grins, his teeth coming out to say ‘hi’ and his dimples popping out, “That’s nice then, see you around?” He asks, reaching his hand out to shake Louis’.

Louis grasps it, shaking it lightly, “Yeah, see you around.” he says, lacing his words together, and then he’s gone. Louis lets out the breath he was apparently holding in. And he feels a pang in his chest that radiates throughout his whole body. He ignores it though, because he refuses to gain feelings for anyone. As he always says, love is but a fairytale; it doesn’t exist.

☯  
It seems like there’s some kind of grand, gravitational force in this school here, because Louis keeps running into Harry over the next few days, and it's like, really fucking annoying. Their conversations vary from the book Louis is reading, to what they’re going to have for lunch, or what they’re going to do over the weekend. It's nothing more than small talk, but still, Louis refrains from telling Zayn about Harry because, well, just like Niall said, Louis doesn’t do crushes. He doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t do “love”. And if he gives off any hints to Zayn, Zayn will immediately rub his ass right in Louis' face, talking about how he's _always_ known Louis' had it in him, and that he always known Louis was capable of loving, and blah blah fucking blah. Nothing will convince him into believing in love. Abso-fucking-lutley nothing.

So, it’s lunchtime again, and Louis is on his way to his table where, of course, Zayn and Niall are sat when it happens again. Harry comes round the corner, holding a tray of food in one hand and a bag of what seems like more food in the other hand. For an extremely skinny looking lad, he sure does eat a lot, Louis thinks.

Louis wants to ignore him, oh he really does. But Harry is at the point of dropping all of his food to the ground, and Louis will feel like complete and utter shit if he just lets it happen. So, instead of saving himself from potential embarrassment from the bullshit that spurs out of his mouth, Louis scurries towards Harry, taking the tray of food from Harry’s hand.

Harry sighs in relief, “Fuck, thank you. I thought I was about to flat out drop all my food in the middle of the cafeteria.” Harry laughs.

Louis chuckles nervously, eyeing Harry up and down. Harry is attractive, see. Very attractive. This is not news at all. Harry has this torso that seems to go on like a skyscraper. Even with the long torso, Louis can tell Harry is toned under his slightly baggy band t-shirt.

Louis feels himself drooling, which is so fucking embarrassing. Like, does he have brain damage? Is he going insane? Is this some psychological condition that’s transmittable from making contact with Harry?

All of those questions run through Louis’ mind because the answer to all of them is yes.

Louis has half a mind to leave the tray of food on a table and leave, but instead he finds himself asking if Harry even has a place to sit.

Yeah, he definitely has brain damage. Probably from when he got run over by the short bus.

“I actually don’t. As sad and embarrassing as it sounds, I’ve been sitting under a tree, alone, reading books since, like, the first day of school.” Harry chuckles, his cheeks flushing with pink, "Freshmen problems."

So, due to the brain damage, Louis invites Harry to sit with him, Zayn and Niall. And wow, is Louis going to get an earful from Zayn when he sees Harry sit next to him at the table.

Louis walks towards the table with his head bowed, but even with his head lowered he can tell Zayn has the biggest smirk on his face. And Niall, well, when does he ever notice anything that goes on?

“And who’s this?” Zayn asks smugly. Mother of fuck, Louis wants to punch Zayn in the face.

“I’m Harry,” Harry says, smiling, oblivious about the stare down Louis and Zayn are encountering.

Zayn's sarcastic tone with Harry continues, and Louis swears all Zayn wants in life is to torture him. All he wants is to see Louis in a corner, rolling back in forth like he’s gone mental. That, is indeed, all Zayn fucking wants.

“So, Harry, how did you two meet?” Zayn asks, taking a rather large bite from his apple trying to seem intimidating. And Louis laughs because Zayn? Intimidating? Intimidating isn’t the word; joke is the word.

Before Harry can answer, Louis’ mind fills with a brilliant idea.

“So, Zayn here has a crush on your friend.” Louis says, turning to Harry and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Louis can tell Harry feels like he’s being ganged up. Which he is. But, he’ll get used to it.

“You know, the puppy face fella,” Louis smiles.

Zayn’s face falls from a smirk, to a pale frown; like the gasping emoji with a blue forehead. While Harry catches on to Louis’ diabolical plan, and smirks.

“Does he, now? How can you tell?” Harry asks, mocking the same sarcastic tone Zayn was using on him.

Louis’ smile widens, and Harry can’t help the growing grin on his face.

“Well, you see, Harry. When a man loves another man very, very, very, very-“

Zayn feels his ears getting hot, “Fuck you. Fuck both of you.”

Harry lets out a cackle, and Louis has been waiting so long to hear that sound again. He’s yet to make Harry cackle in that way, and even though it was Zayn who made him laugh. Louis wants to take credit for that glorious, yet ear piercing sound.

“What, love? I was just telling Harry here about the story of how you fell in love with him within a week, and began stalking him.”

Zayn kicks Louis’ shin under the table, “One: I’m not in love, two: you tell the story wrong. You drag it out, and make it seem more than it really is, and three: I don’t fucking stalk him,”

Louis gasps, clearly offended by Zayn’s choice of words, “I do not! I tell it in a Shakespearean form. I make it sound romantic.” Louis states, “And, what do you call memorizing his class schedule? What do you call staring at him from the other side of the cafeteria like you’re doing right now?”

Zayn snaps out of his daze, and mentally punches himself in the face because Louis caught him red-handed.

“Just let me tell the story, you raging cunt fuck.”

“Yeah, no. Fuck you.” Louis says bluntly.

Zayn rolls his eyes, and takes a bite from his Twizzlers, pretending its Louis’ head he’s biting off.

“As I was saying, even though I don’t approve of this behavior, when a man loves another man very much he tends to grow more feelings for the other, he tends to grow a stalker type behavior,” Louis pauses to look at Zayn, who is angrily chewing at his Twizzlers.

“So,” Louis continues, “The day he saw you and the love of his life, Zayn decided he’s going to do whatever it takes to make him his.” Louis smiles.

Zayn scoffs, tossing a Twizzler at Louis, it bouncing off the tip of his nose, “That was nowhere near as brilliant as Shakespeare.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Whatever, Zayn has a creepy crush on your friend,”

Harry nods understandingly, and looks at Zayn, “I see your situation here,” Harry says, mocking the voice of Dr.Phil.

“But, how do you not know how to ask him out?”

Louis opens his mouth to answer for Zayn, but Zayn cuts him off before he does so, “I don’t usually do boyfriends. But, I do want Liam,”

Louis scoffs, “Of course you know his name,”

Harry thumps Louis’ forehead, “Leave him alone. Go on, Zayn,” Harry smiles, placing his chin in the palm of his hands.

“Well, I want him. And just, whatever. It’s stupid anyway.”

Harry waves his hands, “No, no, holy shit. Fuck that, how can I help?”

Louis looks over at Harry with wide eyes of disbelief, “You’re not really encouraging his stalker behavior, are you?”

Harry kicks Louis under the table, “Yes, I’m encouraging him. Quit being a Debby Downer, Lou.”

Lou, Louis smiles inwardly because Harry just called him Lou. Not even because Louis told him to call him that, but because Harry let it slide off his tongue with ease.

Louis scoffs, “I’m not a Debby Downer, and you’re a Sassy Sally.” Louis tries to sound as serious as he can, but he ends up giggling like a school girl instead.

Harry taps his chin with the tips of his fingers as if pondering over a serious thought, “No, you’re not a Debby Downer. You’re more of a twatty cunt.” And Zayn outright cackles at that. He starts choking on a bit of Twizzler he inhales from his outburst.

“I like him,” Zayn says in between fits of laughter and chokes, “I think you and I will get on very well, Harry.” Zayn says, leaning over the table to fist bump Harry.

“Amazing, now I’ve got two hopeless romantics in the bunch,” Louis sighs, “Are you next, Niall? Are you going to turn all mushy red Valentine hearts on me?” Louis asks.

Niall’s been sitting there watching the whole speculation from the sidelines, “You’re all fucking mad, I’m just trying to have my lunch.” Niall mumbles, going back to his bag of chips.

It takes Harry exactly three days to figure out that Louis has a free period before lunch, and he spends it alone in the library, which oddly, is the same place Harry spends his free period. It’s just Harry would've never thought Louis would spend his free period in the library of all places. He half expected Louis to be smoking behind the school bleachers, or off doing some other unimaginable, illegal shit. But, since Harry found this new information, he’s been spending his free period with Louis and they've become accustomed to the comfort of each other’s presence.

Usually, Harry has some project or homework he has to work on so Louis just sits and watches him. And, oddly, Louis doesn't mind just sitting there and watching Harry work. Though, on most occasions, the two will spend their time talking, a lot.

Louis finds out Harry is originally from Homes Chapel, but his parents got divorced so they moved up to London. He also finds out that Harry has an interesting taste in music. Interesting because he has more than 10,000 songs in his iTunes, and majority of those are bands Louis has never heard of. One afternoon, Harry plays multiple songs for Louis, claiming each one is his favorite.

“Okay, no wait,” Harry skips the song he’s playing halfway to play another song with a soft, folksy guitar intro, “This one is my absolute favorite song of all time.”

Louis chews on his pen, then thumps Harry's forehead, “You said that about every song you've played for me, Harry. Just admit you don’t have a favorite song, it’s not that hard.”

Harry gasps, “It is hard, Louis!” Harry proclaims.

Louis scoffs, propping both his feet onto the library table. The librarian shoots Louis a deathly glare, but Louis shrugs and turns back to Harry, “No, it’s not. My favorite song is #GETITRIGHT.”

Harry’s face scrunches up, “What the fuck is that?”

When Harry asks that, Louis makes a mental list of ways to kill Harry because is he fucking serious? So, he makes a list.

He can choose the following:

A. Jump across the table and bitch slap Harry in that face.

B. Slice Harry’s throat for not knowing what song that is, and who sings it.

C. Shove a Bangerz album up Harry’s ass so he can at least have some good music in his body

D. All of the above

Louis wants to choose C, but the poor child is clueless.

“Dearest Harry, I’m going to give you a lesson on the Queen, alright?”

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, but nods nonetheless.

Louis picks up his book bag from the floor, digs around the larger pocket, and pulls out Miley’s Bangerz album. Louis carries Bangerz with him everywhere, because he never knows when he’s going to need it. Like in this case, Bangerz is a necessity.

Louis slowly slides the album towards Harry, and points at the picture of Miley, “Now, Harry, this is Mileysus. She is Queen, God, everything, got it?”

Harry scoffs, wanting to say something about said “Mileysus” but refrains and nods because he wants to know what other ridiculous things Louis has to say.

“Good. Now, this album is called Bangerz or the Bible, whichever you feel comfortable with calling it.”

“I’m comfortable with calling it Trash.” Harry smirks.

If looks could kill, Harry would be dead by the glare Louis is giving him.

“If you’re not going to appreciate good music, then I think you should leave,” Louis snatches Bangerz (bible) from Harry’s hand.

“I appreciate good music!” Harry protests, “It’s just your opinions on pop music are terrible, Lou. Like, Miley? Over Beyoncé? You honestly can’t be serious? We’re going to a music festival this summer, and you’re not going to whine about how terrible the music is but you are going to stand there and listen and bloody educate yourself about real music. We’re going to Leeds and that’s final.”

Louis genuinely can’t believe the words that are sputtering out of Harry’s mouth, “Real music?”

“Yes real music. Not that “Pop a molly I’m sweating.” dubstep bullshit, but actual music.”

This starts an argument that lasts the rest of the free period and continues for days. They eventually agree to disagree on their opinions on music, but Harry is still taking Louis to the Leeds Festival to “educate” himself. After that, Harry brings in a new album of a band Louis’ never heard of, nor does he find interest in. But, Louis sits, and he tries to listen to Harry ramble on about how great a guitar solo is, or how brilliant the lyrics are. He tries to listen, but instead he finds himself thinking about what Harry intended when he said they’re going to a music festival. Like, friends do that, right? Friends invite friends to go to a music festival. Just them. Alone. That’s normal, of course. They’re friends, so it shouldn’t matter if they go to a music festival alone.

Louis learns that Harry can talk for hours on end about music, and he knows this because Harry asks for Louis’ number and they talk about anything and everything (mostly music).

There’s one thing he doesn’t learn about Harry, though, and it’s starting to drive him slightly insane (as if he hasn’t gone mad already). And, it’s not like it really matters. Like, it shouldn’t matter, but Louis’ curiosity is killing him. He tries as hard as he can to figure it out without outright asking. He drops hints and chances for Harry to comment on things that include that male genitalia, but it never works. The fact remains: Harry Styles’ sexuality is an absolute fucking mystery. And another fact still remains: Louis is desperate to know Harry Styles’ sexuality (but he doesn't want to admit he's desperate).

The next day Louis plops himself next to Zayn at the lunch table. He feels as though he’s in one of those High school sitcoms where the characters always meet up in one location. Whether it’s a lounge, or a coffee shop, or even one of the characters home, they always meet at the same place. For them, it was the lunch table.

So, Zayn has his head in his hands, muttering meaningless curses to himself, while Niall is too busy sucking a girl’s face off to notice Louis’ presence, or Zayn’s current state of depression.

Louis cringes, crinkling his nose at Niall and the unknown girl, and thinking to himself, how can a man possibly be straight? Vaginas are evil suction cups that bleed every month for a bloody week (no pun intended). While cocks, well, cocks are a creation God took his sweet time on.

When Louis finally draws his attention away from the heterosexuals, he turns to Zayn.

Zayn groans as if he just got punched in the balls, “Louuuuiiis,”

Louis pats him on that back, “What’s wrong this time, mate?” Louis asks sarcastically, “Has Liam gone off sucking some other blokes cock?” Louis can almost see through Zayn’s thick skull, and into his brain which is planning Louis’ slow and painful death. He can see himself tied up to a wooden chair with a duck taped mouth. Zayn comes slowly walking towards Louis with a smirk plastered onto his face, and a gallon of gasoline in his hand. An evil, spine-tingling laugh that you would only see in the movies comes out of his mouth as he pours the gasoline of Louis’ squirming body. Louis can see Zayn lighting his cigarette before flicking the lighter into Louis’ lap and Louis catching on fire.

The funny thing is that Louis can actually see Zayn doing this if he pushes him too far. And the other funny thing is that Louis wants to push Zayn so far that he actually considers lighting Louis on fire.

Zayn lifts his head for a moment to sneer at Louis before slamming his head onto the lunch table with a loud bang.

Louis is just about to give up on Zayn when he sees Harry pull up an extra chair from behind him, and sets it for another lad.

Harry looks down at Zayn, then smirks at Louis, “So, these are my new mates,” Harry points at Louis, introducing him, then points and Niall and decides there’s no point when Niall was still too busy sucking face.

But then, Harry takes a deep breath and points at Zayn, “And, finally, this is Zayn. Zayn, meet Liam,”

Zayn’s head flies up. His eyes seem as though they’re about to bulge out of his sockets; his cheeks flush with an endearing color of red, and fuck he's never felt so flustered in his life. What if his breath smells? Or if he has bologna in his teeth? What if his drool dried up and it looks like he forgot to wipe his mouth after giving a blowjob?

Zayn struggles to even say hi. He struggles because Liam is probably the sexiest bloke he’s seen in a while since, maybe, Louis. Like, Louis is hot and all but Liam. Zayn can practically feel the blush from his cheeks slowly moving down to his crotch just by looking at him.  
And, if it wasn’t for Louis kicking him under the lunch table, he wouldn’t have noticed he’s been staring at Liam this whole time. He wouldn’t have noticed Liam bloody said something to him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Zayn asks.

Liam smiles, dipping his head down before looking back up at Zayn, “I said, it’s nice to meet you, Zayn is it?” Liam reaches his hand out to shake Zayn’s.

Zayn, who also happens to have brain damage, stares down at Liam’s hand.

Louis kicks Zayn again, and Zayn refrains from jumping over the table like a crazed monkey, and snapping Louis’ neck. Instead, he grabs Liam’s hand and shakes it. Zayn contemplates over whether he should never wash his hand ever again, or if he should mysteriously run off to the loo to have little wank using the blessed hand.

Louis decides to spare Zayn from further embarrassment and starts a conversation, angling it towards sexuality, and well, sex itself. This gives Zayn the chance to brag about how men find him irresistible, and count the many men and women he’s slept with. Louis doesn’t like to brag about the men he sleeps with, but he does kiss and tell, and he has no problem exploiting the number of men he’s slept with. He especially points out the fact that you can’t count the number even if you use both your fingers and toes. Niall talks about how he has no problem with his booty calls, he has one almost every night (counting the one he was snogging earlier). The subject is landed on Liam next and he proudly states that he’s only slept with two men and one women, and Louis can see Zayn sigh in relief because he finally knows Liam's sexuality. While Louis, on the other hand, is still aching to know Harry's sexuality, and that time comes when it’s Harry’s turn.

“I don’t know, really,” Harry shrugs, taking a sip from his carton of orange juice, “I haven’t slept with anyone since, like, my 15th birthday.”

Louis tries, oh he tries not to shove questions down the poor boys' throat. But, thankfully, he has Zayn to do that for him.  
“But you have slept with more than one person?” Zayn asks with studied nonchalance, and Louis avoids Zayn’s eyes because Zayn knows exactly why they’re discussing this topic.

And Louis seems to forget how great of a friend Zayn is, because really, if it wasn’t for him Louis would still be pondering about Harry’s sexuality. The lad deserves a fruit cup.

Harry laughs a little, “Yeah, a few people. Just casual flings, you know? None of them were, like, my soul mate or anything."

People. Them.

Fuck Harry and his gender neutral words. Louis is going to shove him into a pool of sharks and laugh at Harry's screams for help.

Louis needs to change his approach. He needs to be upfront with it, so he trains his eyes on Harry and takes a deep breath before starting his own bomb dropping sentence.

“Soul mates don’t exist, Harry, maybe that’s why you haven’t found yours yet. You see: love is but an illusion the media brought to life in movies and books. I, like you and the lads, have sought and found pleasure through casual sex, only because love doesn’t exist. The day I find a gentlemen that can prove to me that love indeed exists, then maybe, I’ll believe in soul mates.”

So there, the atomic bomb finally dropped. Now, Louis is waiting for the aftermath of it all.

“You're just a cynical dick, Lou,” Niall throws in, chuckling.

Louis adverts his attention from Harry to Niall, “And bet you think every girl you meet is The One, right,?" Louis questions, "but I doubt that because you really don't know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Ni," Louis smirks, then turns his attention back to Harry who, in fact, has all his attention on Louis.

“Maybe if you even bothered to ask for the lads name after you fuck him, you’d have a chance,” Zayn adds, and really he shouldn't be talking since he can probably name only three out of the many people he's slept with. Louis wants to call him out, but he's a good friend, and he doesn't want to be another addition to Zayn's "To Kill" list.

Louis squints his eyes at Zayn, then turns to Liam, “Oh Liam, have I ever told you Zayn only takes long showers because he loves to wa-“

Zayn practically jumps across the table to strangle Louis before his lasts words slipped out of his mouth. Zayn climbs onto Louis' lap, keeps his hand over Louis’ mouth and smiles at Liam, who looks as lost as a puppy.

“Yeah, I um, I love to watch the water come down the faucet. It relaxes me.”  
Liam smiles, and his cheeks puff up in the way that makes Zayn’s heart skip a beat, "Yeah, I get you, It relaxes me too. Sometimes I like to imagine I'm in a rain forest or something, you know?"

Zayn is smitten at this point, "Yeah, yeah I know what you mean,"

Louis bites the palm of Zayn's hand, making him yelp like a little girl.

Zayn sits back in his seat, rubbing his slightly damp palm with his thumb watching Louis. He smirks because he's been watching Louis for week now; he sees the way Louis leans into Harry when he laughs at his terrible jokes. He sees the way the two whispering, and giggling as if no one else is around. Zayn, like the stalker he is, has been watching them this whole time and he just sits back and smirks, because he knows Louis is slowly becoming insane because of Harry fucking Styles.

Louis plops himself down at the lunch table the following day, and he gets that High School sitcom feeling again.

"We seriously need to hang out somewhere else. I'm absolutely tired of being in a loud, sticky, disgusting smelling cafeteria," Louis grumbles, leaning his head onto Harry's shoulder.

The thing is, Louis knows how he feels about Harry. Like, he known for weeks now, he just doesn't want to accept it. He doesn't want to accept the way his heart speeds up when

Harry calls him Lou instead of Louis, or the way his toes and fingertips feel some kind of warmth when Harry plays with Louis hair. But It's one thing to know you feel something for someone, and actually accepting it, and dealing with the agonizing consequences. And Louis doesn't want to go with the latter, like he really, really doesn't.

So, he assumes that if he doesn't make something out of nothing, then it won’t be anything at all. Those so called feelings can stay in a little, locked up box in the bottom of his heart. Or maybe his asshole if he decides to be a dick about it.

Louis looks up at Harry who, as expected, is playing with Louis hair. Harry smiles down at him, "Your place tonight, I'll bring beer."

Louis doesn’t want to admit that he’s been cleaning his whole flat since he got home just for Harry’s arrival, but that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Louis doesn’t necessarily clean a lot. He doesn’t clean at all, actually. But Louis thought, this is Harry, like, if it were to be Niall he wouldn’t care if his week old sandwich was still laying on the floor of his room. But, like, this is /Harry/. And for some ridiculous reason, Louis really wants to impress him.

So, Louis lays out bowls of assorted sweets and popcorn on the coffee table, along with an arrangement of different movies and video game. And pretty soon, the lads came piling into Louis and Zayn's flat, one by one.

First, Niall comes barging in, of course, without ringing the doorbell first, with a bottle of wine and a family sized bag of cheese puffs. Then came Liam, with Harry slowly walking behind him carrying a 6-pack of beer.

Later that evening, everyone is gathered around the couch. Louis, Harry, and Niall scrunched up on the couch, and Liam and Zayn on the floor. And Louis smirks because he clearly sees how uncomfortable Zayn is, like, he can tell all Zayn wants is to get a little bit closer to Liam without making it awkwardly noticeable. It's like watching a little kitten trying to befriend a bulldog, and in this case "Bad Boy Zayn" is the helpless, desperate kitten.

After a solid hour of watching Zayn and Niall play FIFA, and Zayn accusing Niall of cheating each time, Louis suggests they should watch a movie with Harry chirping up and suggesting they should watch "Titanic".

"Jesus, Harry, how many times have you watched Titanic? The ship sinks. Jack Dies. The end." Liam explains, stuffing his hand into the bowl of popcorn.

"Good point," Zayn says from his spot next to Liam, "Clueless?"

They all agree on it, except for Niall who for one has never seen Clueless, and says it's lame.

"You're lame, Niall." Harry states, throwing a beer cap at the back of Niall's head, earning a very nice finger from Niall.  
Eventually, Niall agrees on the movie and pops it into the DVD player.

Harry looks at Louis and Louis looks at Harry, except, Louis doesn't look at Harry the way Harry is looking at Louis. Harry has this incredibly cheeky smirk plastered on his face and Louis can't help but feel uneasy about the whole thing.

Harry leans in closer to Louis' face as if he's about to tell Louis a very important secret and Louis' throat closes up. He can smell the cologne he put on this morning, and the mentos he shoved in his mouth before coming into Louis' flat; Louis feels lightheaded.

"Wanna get me some chips?" Harry asks, and Louis lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Uh, yeah, um- Cheetos or, like, Doritos?" Louis stutters, pulling the headband holding his long fringe from his head and wrapping it around his wrist.

"Cheetos are fine," Harry states, the smirk on his face only growing larger.

Louis nods, tripping over Zayns legs to get away from the smirking piece of shit and make his way into the kitchen. Once he finally reaches the kitchen, he leans against the counter, mentally punching himself in the face because, like, he feels like he just got run of by a truck, sadly survived and is now facing brain damage.

The thing is, he knows how he feels about Harry. He's known for weeks, really, maybe even longer. He's not an idiot; he knows what that giddy, restless feeling in his fingers and that electric warmth in his chest means. But, like, it's one thing to know yourself and what you're feeling inside, and it's another to accept it and face the consequences and Louis doesn't want to face the latter of it at all. He's told, and convinced himself a while ago that love is just a small fragment in the human imagination brought to life in books and movies, and is nothing but fiction. Louis can't afford these feelings because he knows how they end. They always end the same.

So, as long as he pretends as if those feelings aren't there, doesn't make a deal out of it, and doesn't put a name on it, everything will be diddle dandy. Those feelings can just stay in this small crevice in his pinky toe, or something.

Louis slumps over the kitchen counter, "I have a fucking crush on Harry," Louis admits out loud, hoping no one hears him. He sighs, standing on his tippy toes to grab the bag of Cheetos on the top shelf of the cabinet and he makes a mental note to curse Zayn out for putting the chips on the top shelf (Zayn, very well knowing, Louis can't reach the top shelf).

"Bloody fucking-"

"Here, I got it,"

Louis feels a warm body press against his bum and sees long arms reach over his head, grabbing the bag of Cheetos Louis sadly couldn't reach. Louis turns around to see Harry with that idiotic grin Harry usually wears win he's accomplished something and a bag of cheetos in his hands, "You were gone for a while, so I figured I'd come to see if everything was alright," Harry assures, ripping open the bag and popping a cheetoh into his mouth.

Louis looks up at Harry and he feels that electric warmth in his chest again; the electric warmth he needs to pretend he doesn't feel.

"Thank God I did too," Harry chuckles, "You can't even reach the middle shelf!"

Louis' at a loss for words (perhaps he can blame the brain damage, yes?), so, Harry just ruffles Louis hair and heads back into the living room.

Louis swallows and follows Harry close behind.

"Saved you a spot," Harry smiles, patting the small cushion between him and Niall.

Louis steps over Liam's legs, then Zayn's eyeing the spot Harry saved for him, "Harry, love, I've got the bum of Kim Kardashian. You can't _honestly_  believe I'll fit between he two of you?" Louis asks, plopping onto the couch and crawling closer to Harry's side of the couch, sprawling his legs out so Niall has no choice but to move himself from the couch to the floor where Liam and Zayn sit.

Harry looks over at Louis and lightly pats the back of his head, pushing him towards Harry's lap. And, wow, Louis' life would probably be a lot easier if he didn't know what it felt like to have his lap on Harry's muscular thighs.

Harry plays with the small, feathery pieces of Louis' hair. separating the longer pieces from the shorter ones, then softly massaging Louis' scalp. The movie is halfway done, but Louis didn't pay attention to any of it. He did for, like, five minutes where Cher was trying to get Christian to notice her by sending herself love notes and chocolates. But, other than that, he didn't pay attention to the movie at all. His main focus was on Harry, and his fingers running through his hair and scalp, and the fact that Harry's been reciting the movie for the bast thirty minutes.

Harry's obviously seen the movie more than the healthy amount, but he just didn't want to admit it. Like, he knew every time Cher was going to say "As if", and he silently stage-whispers it to himself with a small hand gesture when she does say it.

Louis looks up at Harry, then back down at his lap. They've always been quite physical with each other. Like, the usual slap on the wrist, pat on the back ordeal, but, not anything like this. Louis thinks, maybe, Harry is in a good mood? Or maybe he just wants Louis on his lap for whatever reason? Louis wants to lean into his touch, tangle his fingers with Harry's finger. He also wants to get up and run away from the whole thing but he can't do anything of that. Louis doesn't know what Harry wants from him, and like, even if he did know, Louis still doesn't know which would be more terrifying? The fact that Harry shares the same feelings and wants to start something with Louis, or if Harry shares no feelings for Louis and Louis low key feels very heart broken?

Instead, he settles with keeping his head and body completely still and finish the movie. He keeps himself distracted from Harry by counting how many times Cher looks completely confused and how many times she makes that whining noise Louis absolutely despises.

"If Cher makes that annoying whining noise one more time, I'm going to smash this beer bottle over my head," Louis threatens.

"It's not that annoying," Harry defends Cher.

Louis looks up at Harry from his spot on Harry's lap, "It so is, like, imagine hearing that every. Single. Fucking. Day."

Harry chuckles, "But I don't, so, it's not that annoying,"

Louis scoffs, "You're annoying."

"No. I'm cute. And you very well know it."

And Louis just smiles because, yes, he very well does know it.

 

"I've got it," Harry's muffled voice says through Louis' phone. Louis stares blankly at his computer screen which has a document open with only his name and class period written on it.

"Got what?" Louis asks, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder as he types the date. He's been working on his book report for an hour, and the only thing he's managed to type onto the screen is his name, class period, and the date. Louis is close to setting his laptop on fire, but he can't blame his procrastination on his laptop, only on himself. Like, it maybe, just maybe could help if he actually read the book. But now, it's the night before the report is due, and he's got Harry's deep voice vibrating against his ear.

"I've got a way to get Liam to fall in love with Zayn. It's brilliant, like, okay so I'm just going to guess that Zayn is trash at math, right? Because there's no way in hell you can be great in English and math, so I'm just?"

Louis stands from his uncomfortable desk chair, and walks into the living room, stopping at the doorway. He leans against the wall, and stares down at a sleeping Zayn plopped on the couch.

"Yeah, he's absolute shit," Louis bites down a giggle, "But what does that have to do with Liam?"

"Okay, so Liam's been tutoring math over the summer, and decided to continue it for the school year," Harry says, hoping Louis will catch on with his master plan, "And I was hoping if you convince Zayn into getting a math tutor, I'll tell Liam, Liam comes over, they do some math, then BAM they're fucking in your bed, and they live happily ever after!"

Louis lets out a snort, making him choke on his snot, and he mentally smacks himself in the face for being so disgusting.

"You okay?" Harry asks him, obviously trying not to laugh at Louis but instead trying to sounds concerned.

"I'm-" Louis takes a deep breath, "I'm fine, I just choked when I snorted and like, snot flew to the back of my throat, and it's so nasty, I'm sorry."

Harry giggles, like he legitimately out right fucking giggled, and Louis has to squeeze his eyes shut, and bite down on his knuckle to refrain from throwing his phone across the room, hopefully hitting Zayn.

"It's alright, but seriously, is it a good plan? Will Zayn be moaning underneath Liam by the end of the night?"

Louis chuckles, "Yeah, it's great. But I'll skin Zayn alive if he even thinks about having sex in my bed," Louis states. Then they both fall into a somewhat comfortable silence, the static of the phone ringing into Louis' ear.

"What's this about me having sex in your bed?" Zayn sneaks up behind Louis, squeezing his hips. Louis lets out a girly shriek, making him drop the phone.

"Lou? Louis?" He hears Harry's voice coming from the floor.

Louis picks up the phone, hoping Harry didn't hear the scream he let out, "Yeah, hey, um I'll call you tomorrow? Let you know if the athmay utoringtay works out."

"Um..what?"

Louis giggles, "It's Pig Latin, figure it out."

"Alrighty then, night night!" Harry says cheerfully, and Louis hangs up, turning around and facing Zayn.

Zayn has his arms crossed, and Louis slings an arm over Zayn's shoulder, "So, what do you think about getting a math tutor?"

 

"I'm not fucking going to sit here and be forced into tutoring! Fuck-Louis I don't even have a bad grade in math!" Zayn shouts, pacing back and fourth in the living room he and Louis share. His quiff isn't at his usual high, it's flat onto his forehead because the stress of Liam coming over to his house is making his hair go a-wire, "And, like, I'm not even presentable! Look at my hair Louis! Look. At. It." 

Louis and Harry are sat on the couch, biting back giggles and chuckles as they watch Zayn freak out.

"You'll be fine, Zayn," Harry reassures him, "Just go take a shower, you look like you haven't taken one in days." he says, scrunching up his nose at Zayns appearance.

"That's because he hasn't," Louis says. It was winter break, and Zayn and Louis haven't left their flat in days. Which also means Zayn hasn't showered in days.

Harry's been coming over since the break started since he has no plans, and no other friends besides Liam, Zayn, and Louis. And with Harry coming over so much, Louis' been trying (but failing) to try and not grow even more feelings for Harry (that is if he even accepts the fact he has feelings for him). They spend their time watching movies, and playing FIFA, and of course listening to new music Harry claims to be in love with each day.

"Go take a fucking shower, mate. Liam's going to be here, like, any minute." Harry snorts.

"Go fuck yourself in the ass," Zayn sneers.

"Go get fucked in the ass...by Liam," Louis adds, trying to contain his laughter by covering his mouth and placing his head on Harry's lap.

Zayn rolls his eyes, and Louis swears they're going to roll out of Zayn's head if he rolls them one more time

Harry turns to Louis, grinning and placing his legs under the other in a crisscross applesauce position, "So, how'd your book report go?" he asks Louis.

"Oh, that. Well, thankfully my bitch of a teacher was sick today, so I have an extra day to work- or start it." Louis chuckles, and Harry's mouth drops.

"You haven't started it?"

Louis shrugs, "I haven't even read the book,"

"You're absolutely terrible, this book," he points at The Fault in Our Stars that was thrown across the room, "Is fucking amazing, like, you'll fall in love with Augustus' charisma, and charm, and his way with words. And overall the book is heartbreakingly beautiful." Harry rambles.

"God, you sound like every other teenage girl on the planet. Makes me want to puke all over that god awful kitten sweater you're wearing."

  
"Lou, shit- I can't do this. I have nothing to wear. I'm out of hair gel! Fuck, I'm screwed. I need a cigarette," Zayn rambles, looking in every drawer, "Louis, what the fuck did you do with my cigs? I can't-"

Louis walks up to Zayn, lightly slapping Zayn in the face. Why did he associate with people who freak out about these things?

"You quit smoking last year, and you're not starting again," Louis states, "Also, Liam is in the living room waiting for you. Just calm down, you're bloody Zayn Malik. You're hot as fuck, you're charming, smart, hilarious even. Don't worry about impressing him because he'll fall for you the second you walk into that room, got it?" Louis reassures him. He has this thing where even though he hates the idea of relationships and everything that came with them, he always helped people out with them. Mostly Zayn, too.

Zayn takes a deep breath, "You're right, I'm fucking Zayn Malik. I can get any guy at school on their knees in seconds." Zayn smirks.

Louis chuckles, "You even got me on my knees once, but don't talk about that, like, ever," Louis warns him, "Now go, he's waiting."

Zayn looks in the mirror one last time before meeting Liam in the living room. Louis follows close behind him and signals Harry to follow him out the door.

"Let's leave them alone, you know, just in case they do fuck," Louis chuckles.

The two walk down the stairs, and onto the long trail that leads to the small forest. Louis tried to ignore the fact that Harry tends to walk into him, or the fact that Harry's finger tips constantly brush Louis'.

Harry bumps his shoulder against Louis', and Louis mentally blesses himself for maintaining a tan throughout his life. He's able to recover from his blush quickly, and bumps Harry back. 

"So where are we off to?" Harry asks, looking down at his feet before meeting Louis' eyes and grinning.

"I honestly don't-wait!" Louis yells, making Harry jump a bit but he doesn't notice. He grabs Harry's hand, dragging him across the trail to a fence before jumping over it, "Zayn and I went through this trail once, and decided to go off it and see what we'd find. And we eventually found this rickety, old tree house and it's so cool," Louis rambles on, hoping he didn't annoy Harry with his rambling. He looks behind him to see Harry listening intently with a goody smile on his face.

"I love tree houses. I've never had one, though, but my childhood friend had one and we'd always go in it at night to hide from our parents." Harry giggles, still being dragged by Louis.

They walk in a comfortable silence, still holding hands. It's not like Louis didn't notice he is still holding Harry's hand. And he definitely notices when Harry doesn't pull his hand away, instead still holds onto Louis' and Louis leads the way to the tree house.

"There!" Louis points off to a shifty, old tree house, "Thar she blows, mate," Louis says, and Harry giggles. That fucking giggle that makes Louis want to check into a mental facility.

"Race you to it?" Harry challenges Louis, "And when I win, which I will, you have to give me a piggy back ride back." Harry smirks.

Louis looks up at Harry before smirking himself, "Deal."

"Ready?" Harry starts.

"Set.." Louis continues.

"GO!"  
They both spring off, and Louis looks beside him expecting Harry to be right next to him. But when he doesn’t see him, Louis turns his body around, running backwards to see Harry a good ten feet away walking with a sly little grin on his face.

Louis really wants to punch Harry in the face, like, really. Like, Louis should’ve seen that coming, right? Harry letting him win? Louis feels like he should’ve seen it coming, but he bloody didn’t.

So, Louis slows down knowing there’s no point in running anymore since he obviously had won. He waits for Harry to catch up with him, then slaps his arm playfully, “You did not just let me win, you fuck ass!”

Harry giggles, rubbing his arm as if Louis’ petty slap actually hurt him, “Maybe I did, but maybe I didn’t.” Harry smirks, “I’m actually quite lazy,”

“Right,” Louis nods, observing the way Harry stands. He has this stance where it’s 20% masculine and 80% gay. Like, he pops his hips out, and occasionally places a hand on them too, “Well, I better get my piggy back ride,” Louis states, punching Harry's arm lightly.

Harry chuckles, eyeing Louis up and down and biting his lip and Louis tries not to acknowledge the fact that Harry is basically undressing him with his eyes, but like, how can he?? Any human being with a brain and working genitals would have Harry in their bed the second he gives them the look he's giving Louis now. And Louis seriously wants to straddle Harry's muscular thighs, and suck him off in the middle of the field but, like, he just can't.

And Louis really does wish he can think the way Harry does. To be able to afford the risk of letting himself fall for someone and have them catch you. To be able to believe in a world where things _do_  work out, and have the luxury of having a perfectly, loved up life.

But Louis thinks the way he does because then he won't be able to understand the same things Harry doesn't understand. Because Harry doesn't seem to get it. He wears his heart on his sleeve because he doesn't have a clue about how the world is really like. The world is cold and cruel and people hurt you simply because they can. And sometimes you fall in love with someone who turns out to be the opposite of what the seemed at first. And it all becomes a cold, brittle winter of sadness.

Harry pulls Louis out of his thoughts by squatting down in front of him, "C'mon now, the offer of this marvelous piggy-back ride is still available."  
*

"Wait, so, you're trying to tell me you've never cooked a meal in your _life_?" Harry asks, putting more emphasis in the word 'life' than necessary.

Since the movie night at Louis' place a few weeks back, Harry's been coming over more than usual. So, now, here they both are, sitting on opposite sides of Louis' couch. For the past hour or so, the two have been sharing embarrassing stories, and fun and not-so-important facts about each other.

Like, Louis finds out Harry's pinky sticks out like an antenna whenever he waves, or reaches out for a high-five. And that he enjoys to cook, and bake which lead to Louis telling Harry he's never cooked a meal in his life.

"Yes, Harold, I've never cooked a bloody meal in my life. Zayn usually does all the cooking, or I just go to McDonalds for a Big Mac with extra cheese and heart disease."

Harry out right cackles at that and Louis wonders how long he has to keep his face buried in a pillow to suffocate him.

Harry stands up, grabbing Louis' arm and pulling him up. And at first Louis is like 'what the fuck does he want? Let go of my fucking arm.' but then he realizes Harry just wants him to follow him into the kitchen.

Louis watches Harry rummage through every drawer in the kitchen until he finds what he's looking for and Louis usually would feel irritated that Harry's opening and slamming every single drawer because he just hates it when people go through his things, but like, he doesn't feel irritated at all? And he kind of wants to shove his head into the oven.

After what it seems like five hours, Harry slams a large book onto the kitchen counter, yelling out "AHA!" and pushing Louis towards the large book.

Harry stands behind Louis, holding his shoulders and lightly shaking them, "You are going to look through this cook book, and you are going to cook me a delicious meal." he says, his face crinkling up into a smile. And Louis wants to make a shrine dedicated to Harry's smile.

"Alright, alright. I'll cook you something. But I'm not promising that it'll be delicious, or fully cooked. And I also can't promise that this kitchen won't burn down so please, if you will, put 911 on speed-dial." Louis states, flipping through the cookbook.

Honestly, he didn't even know he had a cookbook, like, he knew Zayn likes to cook but he always makes his usual spaghetti and on occasions baked potato, but nothing that's inside this book.

Eventually, Louis finds a recipe he seems to like and he shoos Harry out of the kitchen.

Louis' halfway done with the meal when he hears tiny footsteps creeping up behind him. So, like any sane human being would do, he grabs his big spatula and whacks Harry over the head with it, "Get out of my kitchen before I whack you again, I swear I'll fucking do it," Louis threatens. He tries to keep a straight face but Harry's just has his eyebrows wrinkled into a frown with his lip pouting out and he's rubbing the top of his head and it's just so precious. Like, Louis wants to whack himself in the head with the fucking spatula.

Harry's pouts again, "I just wanted to take a picture for twitter," Harry starts to explain, still rubbing his head and Louis wants to whack Harry again because he's so fucking cute and he needs to stop being so fucking cute for the sake of Louis' sanity, "I was going to caption it with 'Louis' first ever cooking experience' with a cute little winky face."

Louis sighs, and looks down at his outfit. He's clad in baggy red sweatpants and a striped t-shirt and he's definitely not decent enough to be photographed. But poor Harry just wants a picture for his twitter, and he probably has a small bump on his head due to Louis' violent acts, and the least he could do is let the lad take a picture of him cooking his first ever meal.

"Alright, make it quick. I don't want you seeing what I'm cooking," Louis pats down his shirt, grabs a spoon and pretends to be stirring something in the pan of food, "And if you even dare to peek, I'm poisoning you."

Harry giggles, taking out his phone and opening the camera, "Say 'I love cooking!'"

"I love cooking!" Louis says smiling.

Louis looks at Harry and Harry looks at Louis (something they've been doing a lot) and Louis' throat closes up like someone just sprayed pepper spray and he can't breathe because the fumes are just too intense. Like, Louis really doesn't want to admit Harry has this huge affect on him but the truth is, Harry has this cosmic effect on him; his brain fills with fog every time he hears Harry say his name. He feels a stream of electricity run up his spine whenever Harry touches him. He finds himself thinking more about Harry than football, and that's fucking major because Louis loves football more than anything.

But, the thing is, Louis needs to accept the fact that his feelings for Harry are inevitable but he just /can't/.

There are reasons why Louis has such cynical views on Love. There are reasons why he doesn't believe in soul mates. There are fucking reasons why Louis seems to believe Love is just a made up fairy tale.

He doesn't want to end up like his parents. That's it.

He doesn't want to fall deeply in love with someone just to have them get up and leave his life like nothing between them ever happened.

He can't let Harry in. He can't accept his feelings for Harry. He can't.

And he's decided he won't.

Louis snaps out of his internal rant when he hears Harry ask him something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asks.

Harry's eyebrows scrunch down. He does that every time he's concentrated; when he's reading, or watching a movie, or trying to read someone's facial expressions to find out what's possibly wrong with them.

"I asked if you were alright? You spaced out for a bit.." Harry asks.

Louis takes in a deep breath, reminding himself not to let Harry in, "Yeah I'm perfectly fine!" Louis chirps, skipping over to the stove to check on his meal, "Oh! And the foods almost done."

Harry smiles, walking over to Louis and pushing back a piece of his fringe back that was covering his face and Louis freezes in his place, "Great. I'll set the table, then."

Louis sighs again for the twentieth time. Louis' gotten used to sighing a lot.  
  
"Okay, Harry. Close your eyes." Louis says, balancing two plates in one arm as he walks into the dining room. He sets a plate down in front of Harry and watches his nostrils flare as he takes a big whiff.

"Smells like mash," Harry smiles, "My favorite."

Louis thumps Harry's forehead, "No guessing!"

Louis scurries to the other side of the table to set his plate down and run back to Harry.

"Open your eyes."

Harry looks down at his plate and, as if on cue, his stomach grumbles.

"It's chicken stuffed with mozzarella," Louis begins to say, making hand gestures to exaggerate the chicken being stuffed with mozzarella, "wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash." Louis finishes, smiling down at Harry who's already stuffing his face with chicken.

"Fuck, this is so good, Louis. Holy fucking-," Harry says with a full mouth, "I could fuck this chicken. You sure you haven't cooked a meal in your _whole life_?" Harry asks.

Louis laughs, "I'm pretty sure,"

"Make me a to-go plate. I'm having sex with your chicken when I get home."

Louis spends his night watching reruns of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, even though he doesn't want to admit that he watches such a mindless reality TV show, but it's addicting.

Like, Kourtney just told Bruce Jenner that his wife, Kris, has been seeing her ex behind his back and shit is just getting too real right now. Louis feels restless, like he has an itch in the middle of his back that he can't seem to reach. He watches as Bruce storms away from the dinner table while Kris looks at Kourtney with disbelief, and he thinks of Harry.

Well, he's almost always thinking about Harry, now. It's like when he /tries/ not to think of Harry, he ends up thinking of Harry. And even if he doesn't try not to think of Harry, he _still_  thinks of Harry. It's like a disease with no cure. He also thinks about how the hell can the Kardashian's walk all day in 6-inch heels? Don't they hurt their feet? Do they ever twist their ankle? What would Harry look like in 6-inch heels? And a cute, little black dress? And- nope. Louis' not thinking about this right now. No. He's not. Nope.

And now his mind wanders off onto the topic of Kim's arse. He's genuinely thought this through, though. Like, there's no fucking way Kim Kardashian has big boobs and a big arse. From looking at the girls at his college, and from looking at girls in general when there are no other hot blokes around, Louis' learned that you have one or the other, you never have both. Either you have a great arse and a flat chest. Or, you have a great bust and a flat arse. It's biology, Louis thinks.

Louis' phone vibrates in his hand. Harry's name with a heart made up of less-than's and three's flashes onto the screen and he reads the message preview.

Louis blinks.

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [11:30 P.M.]**: _d_ _o u think kim k's arse is real????_

Louis blinks again.

L **ouis 'The Tommo With a Big Cock' Tomlinson [11:32 P.M.]:** _are u stalking me??_

His phone buzzes not even a minute later.

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [11:32 P.M.]**: _um.....no?_

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [11:33 P.M.]:** l _mao jk im outside ur door._

Louis scoffs, wiggling his thumbs over the keypad of his shattered iPhone. (he can completely blame Niall and Zayn for his shattered screen)

 **Louis 'The Tommo With a Big Cock' Tomlinson [11:34 P.M.]:** _l_ _mao riiiight_

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [11:34 P.M.]**: _what?? u dont believe me?_

 **Louis 'The Tommo With a Big Cock' Tomlinson [11:35 P.M.]:** _knock 3 times and then ill believe u_

Louis hears three knocks coming from his front door almost immediately after he presses send. When he opens his door he sees Harry with his hair in a bun, holding a plastic bag in is hand.

"Are you fucking rea-"

Harry's smile reaches his receeding hairline, "I've got Chinese!"

Harry's pushing past him and into his apartment before Louis could even finish his sentence.

"I've got Shrimp Fried Rice for me, and for you, Louis, my dear, I've got Chop Suey." Harry hasn't stopped smiling since he walked through Louis' front door, "I didn't really know what you liked so I just got this because it rhymes with your name."

Is he fucking real?

Harry just grins, carefully placing the Styrofoam plates of noodles and rice onto Louis' coffee table.

"You're weird, and actually, Chop Suey doesn't rhyme with my name." Louis states, twisting his plastic fork into the noodles, ignoring the fact the noodles look like they've been fished out of the dumpster.

Harry dead-pans, "Are you, like, serious?"

"What?" Louis asks.

"Louis, please, I know you're better than this. Look into the light and realize what you've just said."

Louis watches Harry's long legs lung over the couch, straddling across Louis' lap, and clutching Louis' cheeks.

"Chop sue-eeeeeee. Loo-eeeee"

Louis stares at Harry, his mouth still full of Chop Suey noodles.

"Say it with me, now. Chop sue-eeeeeEEEEEE. Loo-eeeeEEEEE" Harry proclaims dangerously close to Louis' face. Louis looks from Harry's eyes, to the noodles that started all of this, and back again.

Louis takes a deep breath through his nose, "Shop ooo-eeeeeee. Ooo-eeEEE" Louis mumbles, struggling because, well, his face is being smushed by a pair of unrealistically large hands.

"Good. Let's play a game. twenty questions sound good to you, Chop Suey?"

Louis chokes, sending a chewed up noodle flying through the air, landing on the television screen.

Harry completely ignores the fact Louis is practically dying in front of him. Like, does anyone care about Louis anymore? The noodle being lodged in his throat gives him war flash backs to the time Zayn left him to die when he choked on a Coca-Cola slushie in the middle of a 7-11 gas station.

"What are you? A straight white boy trying to figure out of I'm a virgin or not?" Louis asks studying Harry's face. It's like his face was structured by God himself. Made from flakes of gold and stardust from the many galaxies in the universe.

"Just ask me a question, Louis." Harry says, rolling his eyes and shoving a large spoon full of rice into his mouth. Who even eats rice with a spoon? Harry, that's who.

"Fine, okay, um." Louis thinks for a moment, "What's your favorite thing about me? And I'll understand if you take long, I know there's plenty to choose from." Louis boasts.

"My favorite thing about Chop Suey are..." Harry pauses, and smiles, "his eyelashes."

Louis freezes. He feels like he's just been punched in the chest and all the air in his lungs disappeared. He feels his face burning up and his hands sweating; his whole body feels numb.

Harry leans in closer to Louis' face, watching Louis' eyes flutter shut and he runs a finger through Louis' eyelashes, "Lou,"

He's not.

No, he's not fucking doing this.

Louis opens his eyes to meet Harry's and he's not only struck by a surge of green, but eyes that resemble an open window; although, that is true for everyone, but Harry's are different. Like you can see the whole world through Harry's eyes yet still see very little. They look soft, almost tired, but still ecstatic; still full of life. Louis tries to fathom a thought to describe what he's looking into right now, but his eyes are something unexplainable. Like, big foot or the lockness monster.

"I like you, Louis, yanno that?" Harry asks softly, tracing Louis' cheekbones with his knuckles, "I like, like you, Louis. That sounds so childish, but it's just- I don't know. I was hoping you felt the same way?"

Louis' heart is burning. Of course he bloody feels the same, Harry's constantly on his mind like a parasite eating his brain away. Louis' always hungry for more from Harry whether it's a gentle touch or a hug that lingers for too long. He's trapped his emotions inside and he feels as if he can't afford to release them, not now, at least.

Part of Louis wants to tell Harry he feels for him too, that he wants to give him a chance; a chance to prove that love, maybe, isn't a figment of imagination. But the other part, the part that's screaming into Louis' brain, wants to run away; shut Harry out, and forget any of this ever happened. Because, that part of Louis forgets anything, and everything bad that happens in his life. He tries his best not to let it affect him, or his life, or any part of him.

Louis is looking at Harry and Harry is looking at Louis.

"Give it a chance, Louis." Harry whispers, burning a hole in Louis' eyes with, inching closer to Louis' face,

"Give me a chance," he says before smashing his lips against Louis'. Louis' world flips upside down; his cheeks burn, his eyes are watering, his stomach feels like it's been turned inside out. Harry's kissing him and he's just sitting there like a numb fool. Harry removes his lips and latches on to Louis' neck. Louis' breath hitches, he's holding onto Harry's shirt for dear life. If he wasn't, he would probably have a stroke right then and there. Like, yeah, he's had other guys kiss on his neck plenty of times before, but Harry's- god- feeling Harry's soft, plump lips sucking on his neck makes his brain go into a frenzy (his cock, too, of course).

"Harry, I-" Louis breathes as Harry bites down on his collar bone. Harry pushes Harry back onto the couch, and he's on top of Louis. Like, Louis can feel everything; Harry's bulge is piercing into Louis' hip.

Harry smirks inwardly a he hooks both of his index fingers into the waistband of Louis' pants, tugging downward at a painfully slow pace. Louis' squirming, watching Harry as he kissed down Louis' stomach. His breath hitches when he feels the warmth of Harry's mouth sucking at Louis' cock through his tight, black boxers.

"Give me a chance, Lou?" Harry asks, looking up at Louis while slowly removing Louis' boxers, exposing his aching cock.

"This is so-fuck, manipulating but-" Louis' mouth drops, licking his lips and gripping the edge of his couch as Harry kisses the tip of his cock.

"How about that chance?" Harry asks again, his lips making a 'pop' sound when he removes his lips from Louis' cock. Which, right now, is red and aching.

"Can we talk about this when I'm not close to coming all over your face before you've even put my cock fully in your mouth?" Louis breaths, and he's sure there's two songs on the tip of his tongue. One that's something along the lines of stop talking, and just suck and what that mouth do? But Harry already has his lips around his cock before he can open his mouth to let out a mighty falsetto note.

Harry's mouth looked so, so pretty stretched around Louis. For someone who hasn't had a lot of experience with sex, he had about two-thirds of Louis' cock down his throat and Louis couldn't think about anything else.

Louis can't help but groan when Harry detaches his lips from Louis' cock. He sits up and stares at Harry for a good minute or two. It should've been kind of creepy and a bit awkward with Louis' aching boner, the smell of Chinese food lingering in his living room, and the look Harry is giving back to him, but it's not and Louis' grateful for that.

"Strip, Shrimp Fried Rice," Louis finally manages to say.

Harry's lips quirk up into a goofy sort of smile, "Whatever you say, Chop Suey."

Louis clutches his thighs tight around Harry's waist and surges up, sucking a vicious bite into the smooth skin of Harry's neck. He can feel the groan vibrating on his tongue as Harry lifts a shaking hand to fist into Louis' hair.

Fuck, Lou,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ ear, softly. Harry’s breath hitches when he feels Louis’ wet tongue swipe up the side of his neck; goose bumps prickle at his skin. Harry uses the hand he originally was using to support his weight to palm Louis' bulge.

Louis' losing his train of thought, his mind going into a whirl as he rocks mindlessly back against Harry's large hand, tugging at the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Why are you still-" Harry's shirt is coming off before he could finish his sentence.

"Okay good, amazing. C'mon, let's go. Naked. Now." Harry chants under his breath, sliding his hand out of Louis' pants to tug them down instead.

Louis surges forward, miraculously flipping Harry over, spreading himself on top of the lanky bloke. With shaking, impatient hands he fumbles with the button of Harry's pants, tugging them down, and clutching Harry's hard on in his hand.

Harry’s cock is heavy and hot in Louis’ hand, bare and slicked with precum. Louis’ whispering filthy words into Harry’s skin and the cool air from the open window blowing across his heated skin. Louis seems to tighten his grip at the base of Harry’s cock and kiss him even harder when he feels Harry shudder, or tense up because he is so needy; all he wants his Louis right now. Louis leans down to mouth at one of Harry’s nipples and he moans, desperately tugging at Louis’ feathery hair. Louis kisses up Harry’s body, nibbling at Harry’s sweet spot just above his collar bones. Harry can see stars in his eyes, his body feeling somewhat electric underneath Louis. He feels as if he’s floating in pleasure, and he wants to scream.

"Fuck me, Louis. Just, fuck me." Harry begs.

Louis blinks, "Are- are you sure?" Louis asks.

Harry gives Louis a look. Like, the Are-You-Fucking-Kidding-Me-Right-Now kind of look.

"Are you, of all people, actually asking me this."

"Right- fuck, okay. Amazing. Great." Louis breathes.

Louis spreads Harry’s legs apart, caressing his thighs before leaving gentle kisses on his milky white skin, “M’going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for days-weeks even,” Louis says, still caressing Harry’s thighs, “But I want to taste you first, make you cum with just my tongue.”

Harry strangles out a moan, Louis wraps his fingers around his own cock and squeezes, trying to keep his orgasm at bay because hearing Harry moan when he’s barely done anything makes Louis’ body shudder; it makes goose bumps trail up his spine. He grabs Harry's cock, licking a stripe up the underside of Harry’s fattened-up cock, making Harry groan loud and long, Louis keeps going down to suck at his balls, pushing his legs back towards his head so Harry’s pretty, pink hole is out in the open for Louis, “So pretty, Harry. So fucking pretty,” Harry lets out a throaty groan when he feels Louis' tongue lick slowly into his hole. The pressure of his tongue making Harry’s thighs quench, his hole pulsing around Louis’ tongue.

“Fuck, Lou-fuck,” Harry stutters, he bites his lip to the point where he’s drawing blood and grabs a fistful of Louis’ rocket ship bed sheets. A moan echoes the room, and Louis, taking it as a good sign, delves in again, his wet heat prodding Harry’s hole once, and then twice, becoming more daring with each swipe. He grasps Harry’s hips to steady him before circling the skin again and pressing his tongue harder into the boy. He kneads Harry’s ass cheeks before spanking him, softly at first, then harder and harder as Louis swipes his tongue around Harry’s hole.

"Louis, please just-" Harry chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut forming little stars in his vision from the pressure, "Chop Suey, please."

How?

"Harry, please stop trying to make Chop Suey sound sexy. I'm seconds away from fucking you senseless and you call me by the name of fucking Chinese noodles."

"Fuck me, Chop Suey." Harry challenges

Louis nods, barely being able to speak. Harry watches as Louis leans over his body to his bed side table, opening a drawer and retrieving a small, white tube. Louis squeezes out the clear liquid onto the palm of his hand, slicking his cock up before lining himself up with Harry, tapping his cock against Harry’s desperate hole.

Harry knits his eyebrows together, “Don’t tease,” Harry warns, his voice stern.

Louis chuckles, leaning down and taking one of Harry’s nipples in between his teeth, biting down and earning a hiss from Harry.

Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ waist and reaches for a hand, which Louis immediately gives. If there’s one person Louis would give any affection to, it’s Harry, and Louis thinks he doesn’t mind because, well, it’s Harry, and Harry is nothing but affectionate towards Louis. Affection is really all Louis can give back. So, Louis softly kisses Harry’s lips, tasting his peppermint flavored tongue before lining up his cock with Harry's hole, and sliding in.

He doesn’t want Harry to feel confused because to Louis this is just sex, with a smidge of affection. But, Louis knows Harry feels something towards him, he knows he shouldn’t be leading him on, he knows he shouldn’t be the biggest fucking twat to one of his best friends. He knows all of this, but he also knows that he’s not ready to accept that fact that he might just be falling for the tall, lanky, clumsy lad with a ridiculous head of curls, and a strange love for Indie music. He looks into Harry’s eyes which are rimmed with tears, probably from the lack of movement coming from Louis . Louis begins thrusting, slowly at first, but speeding up when Harry squeezes Louis' hand incredibly too hard. Louis thrusts harder as he meets Harry’s gaze, and he sees it. He sees the way Harry looks at him; it’s the way him mum looks at his step-dad. That look of complete affection, that look of love. And Louis feels overwhelmed and is relieved when Harry’s eyes shut tight as he groans.

“Turn over for me, baby,” Louis says softly, and Harry obliges, turning over so his face is mushed against Louis’ pillow. And, Harry notes, the pillows smell just like Louis’ shampoo; like rosemary and mint. Louis grabs ahold of Harry's hips, thrusting harder and harder, and Harry bites down on the pillow hard, the new, yet familiar angle making it far too easy for Louis to his Harry's prostate, hitting it with each thrust. Really, at this point Harry is a stuttering mess underneath Louis, and Louis can’t help but smirk because only he can make Harry this way. It’s kind of like an award winning feeling, Louis thinks honestly.

Harry moans echo through Louis’ living room, Louis’ thrusts becoming relentlessly hard, and fast, and soon enough Harry’s soft moans turn into deep grunts and they’re both coming.

Harry struggles to catch his breath before saying something Louis never wants to hear after he's just orgasmed,

"I think your noodles are getting cold."

*

"He did not fucking say that," Zayn exclaims in shock, as if he didn't expect that sort of thing to come out of Harry's mouth. Like, it's /Harry/. /Louis/ shouldn't have been so surprised.

"I mean, like, did they get cold? Because, I know they taste like shit after chop suey gets cold. You can't even reheat it! It's like reheating Mc'Donalds fries!"  
Louis sighs, shoving a handful of over salted chips into his mouth; the salt drying up his tongue in lips making him sound like he has a lisp when he speaks.

Why did Louis even decide to associate himself with Harry? Sure, the lad is quite fit, but he also has the maturity level, and the eye-hand coordination of a baby deer. What are those even called? Louis thinks.

"What are baby deer's called?" Louis asks, interuppting Zayn who apparently was going on a complete rant on why Mc'Donalds fries should be revamped to when you reheat them, they don't taste like soggy shit.

"Were you even listening to me?" Zayn scoffs, a mild twitch of hurt flashes through Zayn's eyes, but Louis knows not sympathize the English major, and theatre enthusiast.

"Baby deer, Zayn."

"Fawn. It's called a fucking fawn."

*  
Geometry is useless, Louis decides. If he hadn't failed Geometry two years ago, he wouldn't be taking an intensive class at the moment; he wouldn't be thinking of ways to kill himself in the middle of third period. There's something about Sin, Cosin, and Tangent that makes him want to fling himself off of a tall building.

Louis sighs, raising his hand.

"Yes, Louis?" Mr. Steele asks.

"I don't understand this worksheet."

Mr. Steele attempts to stand from his desk, his beer belly making it difficult do so. He walks over to Louis, and bends over Louis' desk as if he's ready to take in a nice, thick, coc-

"What don't you understand?" He asks, smiling with a coffee stained grin. His salt and vinegar flavored crisp breath hitting Louis like a train going at full speed.

Louis tries to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and counting to three.

Inhale.

One.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Two-

"Louis?"

"Listen, I don't know. I'm brain dead." Louis states.

"Just use Sin, Cosin, and Tangent. If you have difficulty remembering what each of those mean, just use SOH-CAH-TOA." Mr. Steele explains, walking away and plopping back down onto his chair, which, miraculously, hasn't broken yet.

"SOH-CAH-TOA..." Louis repeats to himself.

He attempts to do number one until he feels a vibration coming from his pocket.

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [9:35 A.M.]: ** _doesnt soh cah toa sound like some tiki chant???_

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [9:36 A.M.]: ** _or like som town in Florida old ppl go to retire and die_

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [9:36 A.M.]:** _sounds more like a chant to me like SOH CAH TOA! SOH CAH TOA!_

Louis blinks.

He turns his head so quickly, he swears he may have gotten whiplash. Louis sees Harry mindlessly texting in the back of his geometry class. Harry looks up from his phone and up at Louis through his abundance of hair.

Louis blinks again because, he's almost 100% sure Harry does not take geometry. Nor does his take geometry with /Louis/. He knows because he may or may not have a certain boy, whose name rhymes with Barry Myles', schedule memorized. It's not creepy, Louis thinks.

Louis' phone vibrates again.

 **Harry Styles <<<333 [9:45 A.M.]:** _how about a quick blowie in 5?_

Louis watches Harry stand from his desk in the back of the classroom, stalking his long legs towards Mr. Beer Belly.

"Hey, Mr. Steele, I'm going to go to the office to pick up this thing, alright?"

"You're not even in this cla-"

"Okay, thanks!" Harry says, snatching the pass from Mr. Steele's desk.

Harry's about to step out of the classroom, but stops, "Oh, it seems as though I have forgotten how to get to the main office. Louis, be a dear and show me the way?" Harry asks with a smirk plastered onto his face.

"Uh, y-yeah. Holy shit, yeah." Louis stutters, grabbing his bag and tripping over a chair or two on his way to the door.

"How did you even fucking-" before Louis could finish asking, Harry pulls him into a closet. A janitors closet.

Louis looks up at Harry who's clad in a tight, white, v-neck and skin tight pants. Louis wonders how his cock breathes, knowing very well it's not the size of Niall's.

"I want to kiss you so fucking bad, Louis." Harry says, walking towards Louis. He grabs onto Louis' hips, Louis' body up against his own.

"I haven't stopped thinking about the other night. About your pretty cock twitching inside my mouth." Louis leans up, moving closer towards Harry's lips; lingering before closing the gap between them. Harry's lips part and before Louis could complain, Harry latches onto Louis' neck. He nips and sucks on the crook of Louis' neck, leaving marks on his collarbones.

Louis throws his head back, letting out a breathy moan.

Harry gets onto his knees, unbuttoning Louis' pants and dragging them down with force.

"Be gentle! These are my favorite pair of jeans," Louis whines.

Harry mouths at Louis' boxers, the bulge of his hard dick, breathing on it; completely shutting Louis up. He slowly pulls his boxers down, so Louis' dick slaps against his map shirt. Harry grips his cock, pumping it slowly and spreading some of the precome down it. He kisses the tip, right at the slit, and Harry groans, letting the vibration buzz through Louis.

Harry's lips feel so soft around Louis' cock. Harry slowly slides Louis' cock further into his mouth, relaxing his throat and taking Louis in completely.

Louis groans, grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair, "Fuck, Harry, you're so fucking-"

Harry hollows his cheeks, making Louis' cock twitch inside his mouth. Louis can feel Harry's lips around his cock slip into a smirk.

Harry moans around his dick, knowing Louis loves the way his throat vibrates against his cock. He looks up at Louis through this eyelashes and long hair. His eyes bright green, and tears on the rim of his waterline, continuing to bob his head and swallow around Louis' cock.

With another twitch, Louis feels his abdomen stiffen, his body jerk and he's coming into Harry's mouth, Harry still hollowing his cheeks and sucking.  
Harry slides Louis cock out of his mouth with a 'pop', the chill air from the janitor's closet hitting his cock making him take in a sharp breath of air. Harry's lips are plump and cherry red.

Louis cups Harry's face, "What the fuck just happened?"

Harry stands grinding up against Louis with a smirk plastered onto his face,"Well, I think I just sucked your cock to the point where you almost ripped my hair out of my skull, and your knees practically gave out," Harry shrugs, "But, ya know, the usual."

Louis pulls his boxers and pants up, carefully buttoning up the button Harry almost broke. He looks up at Harry with a sigh before resting his head on his chest.

"What am I going to do with you?" Louis asks.

Harry rests his head on top of Louis, playing with the sweaty bits of hair stuck onto his neck.

"Well, I have two ideas. We could skip our last three classes, go back to your place and fuck like bunnies, _or_  you could give me a chance, go to dinner, then go to your place and fuck like bunnies."

Louis looks up at Harry trying to look as annoyed as possible, but lets a fond smile slip out.

"You know what, I'll go with the second idea," Louis says, "Just as long as you don't moan Chop Suey while i'm coming inside your asshole."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiii! if you liked it it would be really cute if you left comments and kudos :)  
> Thank you!!!
> 
> twitter- @cockjpg


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